#sugarwarachanwrites

[sugarwarachan]

touchstarved!dabi who's unused to any sort of physical contact that isn't reprimand or pain. he tries so hard to keep it together when you scratch your nails down his scalp, but he can't help pressing up against your hand, silently begging for more.

touchstarved!dabi who starts to crave the feeling of your skin on his with an almost visceral pain. he can't help it; you're just so soft and warm and kind

touchstarved!dabi who nuzzles into your neck and nips at your ear hard as you ride him, whispering filth that makes your stomach drop, "going nice and tight around me, aren't ya, baby? let me feel you gush all over my cock, go on, you can do it"

touchstarved!dabi who goes absolutely feral when he's been away from you for any longer than a week, collaring you by the neck and dragging you into his room just to toss you onto the bed and hitch your thighs under his forearms, "show me how much you fucking missed me princess" (goodbye to your fucking guts)

touchstarved!dabi who refuses to get up afterwards because he likes to bask in the feeling of your skin against his

[sugarwarachan]

pretty sure shigaraki tomura would be absolutely fucking floored by how much you being kind turns him on

like he’s watching you talk to spinner about video games, and you’re bouncing in your seat with excitement, and he doesn��t understand this strange buzzing in his chest.

when you let toga have some of your blood, no questions asked, or talk with twice when he’s lonely, the warm buzzing just gets stronger and stronger until he’s hiding himself in his room, jerking down his pants and pulling his cock out, barely holding back the whimper locked in his throat

it’d feel so much better if it were your hands. what would you do if you knew he was in here stroking himself like this, dick jumping in his palm, pre-cum beading at the tip?

he groans. would you offer to help? his breath catches as he thinks about you on your knees, those kind eyes locked on him. would you want to taste him? he’d want to taste you. he’d want your pretty pussy dangling right over his face. fuck, he knows you'd smell so fucking good -

you bang on the door. “tomu, what do you want for dinner?”

yeah, you’re going to be a problem for him

[sugarwarachan]

thinking horny thoughts about hawks - mdni

you and hawks watching tv, your back against his chest, wings on either side of you. he’s bad at personal space, needs to crowd you, get his hands on you whenever he can. he pulls your panties to the side and strokes his thumb over your clit. your hips buck against him as you let out that gorgeous little moan he loves.

“nah ah ah, don’t run away pretty girl,” he coos, using his forearm to hold your hips down. “let me feel you, feel how good you are. ya wanna feel good, don’t you baby?”

you can only nod. he always gets you this way, so fucking needy you can’t even talk. he loves it. he’s the only one who can get you like this, the only one who gets to hear how quickly your pussy starts to talk, all for him -

“oh, angel, you’re already this fuckin’ wet and I’ve barely got my hands on you.” his wings flex and rustle behind you, filling your senses with more of him, more of his scent, his touch -

“been waitin’ all fucking day to feel this pussy gush all over my fingers.” he grinds his cock against the meat of your ass, fingers sliding into your pussy and then pressing up, two fingertips rubbing against your g spot, the palm of his hand the perfect pressure on your clit - you keen so loudly he has to clap a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

“keep fucking coming angel, there’s my girl, squeeze my fucking fingers, just like that.” you bite the inside of his hand as you come, your thighs trembling in his lap.

his wings bracket the both of you as you come down, both of your breaths slowly getting steadier.

neither of you ever ended up watching any tv that night.

[sugarwarachan]

title: better than most to say the least

pairing: dabi x reader (also on ao3)

wc: oops this is almost 3k

CWs: soulmate!au, fem!reader, slight angst if you squint, no condoms used (wrap it up in real life yall), Dabi's a little mean, reader's a little into it, the unbearable burden of being seen, i haven't written fic in years be gentle

Dabi doesn’t care about much. You can’t in the sort of world he inhabits. It’s much easier to scorch the earth behind you than to plan for good things to come. So he’s furious when he hears your voice, a real soft and low number, like a siren out in the fucking fog, say, “That’ll be ¥500.”

His brother laughed when the soul mark activated; even at the age of three, he’d known just how mundane the words were. Part of him had laughed as well; maybe you and he would laugh about it, too, when you met. The laughter died in his throat when he saw his father’s disapproving face.

He looks down at the packaged onigiri in something like disbelief. Your face is starting to express apprehension. He still hasn’t said anything, and it doesn’t even look like he’ll pay. He’s not surprised you’re weirded out, and fuck, something is pressing against his chest, like a buoy rising up, pulling him to the surface so he can finally suck down oxygen.

He feels fucking free, giddy with it. You’re real. He never once imagined you would be.

The grin that cracks his face must look a touch maniacal because your eyes widen, and he watches you press yourself against the counter as he says, “Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, princess?”

He’s not all that pleasant to look at.

You know that’s not a nice thing to think, especially about your soul mate, but you can’t help that your first thought upon seeing the guy was holy fucking shit what happened to you?

A moment ago, he was glaring at you, and now he’s radiating a nervous energy that puts you on edge. It’s like he thinks you’ll disappear the moment he takes his eyes off you.

You’re no criminal, but you’re no hero, either. You’ve got a quirk that makes most people wary of you, so your nonsense detector is finely tuned, and fuck, your soul mate is definitely the kind of dude who ends up on the other side of those hero compilations your coworker streams on her lunch break.

“Not done talking to me, are you?” He pouts, pushing out his lips and pulling at the staples in his face. His voice is nice. It relaxes you somehow, even when every nerve in your body is shrieking in alarm.

“Where’s yours?”

This throws him. A part of you doesn’t like forcing his hand like this, but another part of you thinks this could be a really convenient trap.

“Your soul mark?” You tap the side of your wrist. “Mine’s along the radial bone.”

He reaches over the till to grab your arm, pulling you closer. You yelp in protest. His touch is hot, familiar. You’re grateful no one else is in the store right now. Explaining this to yourself is going to be enough of a hassle later on.

There’s a menace in his voice when he addresses you. “You think I’m a liar?”

You don’t, actually. Even without the soul mark you would take this man at his word.

“No. But you’ve been in here a whole lot, and I’m a naturally suspicious person. So, pony up and show me.”

You’ve gotta be smart about this. Heroes and villains alike would do a lot to get a person with your quirk on their side, and you’re not so naïve as to think that soul marks can’t be discovered and used against you.  

He grins, and you feel it like a twist to the gut. This guy might actually kill you; you don’t really know. But something—the little bond between the tug of you that threaded your lives together the moment he opened his mouth—is already tugging at your brain for answers, for knowledge, all to better assemble who your soulmate is.

“We’ve gotta go somewhere safe for me to do that, doll.” He leers at you, and you wonder if he’s trying to intimidate, trying to imprint on your brain that, yes, he is, in fact, dangerous. “You’re just gonna have to take my word for it.”

Fat fucking chance.

You don’t take him at his word. You call him every name he’s ever heard and then some, and then you close your eyes and hum, and a feeling like sugared caramel slides into his head. Fuck is he floating? he thinks before he crumples to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

When he comes to, his head is splitting. He’s sitting in what he assumes is the store’s backroom, judging by the shelves lined with cleaning products. You’re on a crate watching him with an annoyed expression, lips kicked out in a pout. It draws attention to the fullness of your lower lip. He tries not to notice.

“You could have just shown me,” you grouse.

“And miss out on the chance to have you hit me with your quirk? What kind of masochist would I be then?”

He doesn’t know what you’re doing as a cashier, but it’s safe to say you’re hiding. He has no idea what you did to him, but just before he’d knocked out, he remembered the first time he mastered the flames, that sticky-sweet feeling of hope in his chest. He has no idea how you managed to dig that out after all these years.

You shrug, ignoring him.

“Too good to fucking explain?” he snaps.

You saw something vulnerable, so personal that not even the league knows he has those thoughts, those memories. If he could scrub them from your brain, he would.

“I can make you dream,” you snap back. “When I was a kid, I used to spend a lot of time in my own head. It worried my parents. They got me tested because they thought I was quirkless. The doctor said I had a minor empathy quirk. Nothing to worry about. What kid wouldn’t want the advantage of knowing how others feel?”

You clench your hands.

“I didn’t know if I could implant a dream into someone’s head, but I spun that dream the night before, and my parents were never the wiser. Up until the day they died, they never knew I’d planned out that scenario already and made that man lie to them.”

He’s floored. He can’t believe you’re willingly offering up such valuable information to him. What would Shigaraki do with you, he wonders, before a violent pain follows the thought. No, Shigaraki isn’t getting his hands on you. He doesn’t exactly know what happens to the things that kid collects for his master.

“Not at the top of the list for hero candidates?”

Your lips pull back in a sneer before you realize. You’re bad at hiding your feelings, he realizes, something that makes him feel oddly protective. You’ll need to get better at that.

He turns his hands out, palms up. A thin blue flame erupts. You jump, but your eyes don’t leave his.

“We’re gonna need to move, sweets. Neither one of us is exactly hero material.”

He takes you to a sorry excuse for a safe house because it’s just some guy on vacation who was stupid enough to leave a spare key behind, but it works in a pinch. He can’t take you to the league just yet. He already barely knows you, and there he would have to split your time with everyone else.

You’re standing in the doorway like a spooked animal. That you agreed to come is shocking in itself, but then again, he would have followed you into a coffin if you asked it of him. Maybe there was something to those soul mate stories Toga pretended not to read after all. He thought the whole bond thing was exaggerated, but maybe not.

He clenches his jaw and grabs a beer from the fridge.

“I’m not gonna fucking hurt you. You can take the bedroom,” he says, even though he wants you to sit next to him, to look at him, to share something again the way you had in the storeroom. But you’re already shuffling away, and before he knows it, the door shuts with a click, and he’s alone in the dark.

Confirmed villain.

It took you all of two seconds to search the web for League of Villains and/or criminal activity across the country, and bam, there he is, menacing even in blurry camera footage.

You stare up at the ceiling and wonder if you should be horrified at yourself that this confirmation changes nothing. He’s just your soulmate, for better or for worse.

And you’re a coward for sitting in here rather than performing the simple task of sharing a drink with him.

The blue glow of the television lights up the living room. He’s moved to the couch, long legs spread open, arms resting along the back. Desire drops low in your stomach at the sight, an almost innate need flashing in your body to climb into his lap.

He catches your eye and smirks like he can read your thoughts. You blush furiously. “Did you realize hiding doesn’t solve shit?”

“Shut up,” you retort, like a child, which makes him laugh. It’s a nice laugh. A little subdued, you think, but warm, hard-won. You don’t imagine he laughs often.

When you settle down next to him, he seems to barely register, but something in you knows he’s pleased. You curl toward the feeling like a cat seeking a sunbeam.  

“Really, though. What made you come out?”

Looking him in the eye is a mistake. He has beautiful eyes, a cerulean blue that puts the sky to shame.

“I don’t like running from things,” you manage. You were wrong to think he wasn’t pretty. “What’s your name?”

He snorts. “You’ve gotta know it, doll, didn’t you spend ten minutes in there panic-searching for violent crime?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Call me old-fashioned, but I’d still like to be introduced.”

“It’s Dabi.”

You raise a brow. “That’s it?”

“For now. I’ll tell you the real one later, okay?”

“Fine.”

He’s watching compilation videos of pro heroes, the footage flickering on the walls around you.

“This is what you do in your spare time?”

He shrugs. “Just what was on.”

You don’t believe that for a second, but it’s fine, because you’re a liar, too. You’d do anything to avoid painful topics, like the possibility that your soulmate already has plans outside of you that you won’t be able to change.

“You know, your words used to get me in a lot of trouble,” you say, to get you back into familiar territory.

He smiles, like that pleases him. You bet it does.

“Oh yeah? What sort of trouble?”

“Just the usual. Your soulmate has a potty mouth, your soul mate’s probably a villain…”

His shoulder tenses against you. You don’t remember scooting closer, but the sheer fucking heat of him is searing into your skin.

You want him. If you’re being honest, you’ve probably wanted him since he first appeared in the store. The part of you that doesn’t exactly abide by societal standards saw a kindred flame in him.

“That sort of thing used to bother me when I was a kid, I guess. But the older I got, the more I realized how much I liked them.”

Your hands ache to touch him. His thigh tenses alongside yours.

“What do you like about them now?” he asks.

You have a whole slew of thoughts in your head about them, the characteristics you assumed based on one little question, but for now all you can say is, “That you finally said them.”

He doesn’t know who moves first.

You tumble into his lap inelegantly, but he doesn’t care; he wants you closer. He’s wanted you closer since he arrived at this shitty studio apartment, has been trying to rein in the overwhelming feeling of possession swarming under his skin, but he wants.

He's a villain, and he’s never been good at waiting for what he wants.

His hands press into the meat of your hips, and he savors the little gasp you make. He’s hard as iron already and all you’ve done is settle your clothed cunt on top of him.

“You’re already fucking scorching, baby, can feel you through your fucking jeans,” he hisses, dragging you along his thigh. You whimper. “I know, fuck, I know, you’re driving me crazy, too.”

Your hands are everywhere, sliding over his scarred skin like you were born to it, fingers exploring the cool metal of his staples. You’re gentle but also not, and it’s like nothing he’s ever felt in his entire life. You move to kiss him, your hips moving more and more, a desperate noise bubbling up in your throat.

“Please, Dabi, please.” You sound so fucked out, and he hasn’t even touched you all that much. “I wanna kiss you, don’t you wanna kiss me?”

He smirks. A little brat, begging for kisses.

He does want to kiss you, has been staring at the plushness of your lips for the better part of since he met you, but his mouth aches today.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna kiss me now,” you’re saying, tongue licking and tasting and sucking at his neck. He bucks against you. “We can feel good in other ways.”

The whimper that comes out of him feels ripped from his soul. His arms cage you closer, one palm snaking up to cup your neck, the other under your shirt.

Neither of you talk as you make quick work of each other’s clothes, discarding them to the floor. He tries not to feel insecure as you take in his body. Over the years, his appearance is as much a part of him as his past. He can’t shed either, no matter how much he might want to.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think you were pretty at first.”

You look so devastated that he can’t help but laugh.

“I don’t fucking care,” he says, pulling you to him and kissing you despite how much his lips ache, because fuck, he has someone, finally, and he’s so glad it’s you. “Just want you.”

He punctuates this by cupping your bare pussy with his hand. Just from grinding on him earlier, you’re slippery and warm, and his fingers part your folds easily. You sigh into his mouth as he rubs the pad of his thumb around the sides of your clit, huffing a laugh when your hips buck for more.

“Getting desperate for it, huh?”

“Fuck you,” you grit out. “Just fucking touch me –" you roll your hips forward – “like you fucking mean it.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll have you dumb on my cock before long.”

“Big fucking talk for a man who hasn’t even – “

He cuts you off by stuffing your pussy with two of his fingers, the stretch of it making you whine. You can feel the cool metal in the staples at the heel of his hand as he strokes, in and out, a steady and rough rhythm that feels impossibly good for it to just be fucking fingering.

“No one ever made you feel this way?” You can hear the smirk in his voice without even seeing him. Splayed out on his lap like this, your tits bouncing as you shift your body closer to him, you bet you look like a fucking mess. But you don’t care, because he's right, no one has ever made you feel like this, and it’s important to you that he feels just as fucking good.

His cock curves along his stomach, weeping pre-cum and jerking up whenever your voice hitches. You think it’s so hot, how in tune he already is with you, how much he wants to please you, that you grab him in the palm of your hand and stroke, relishing the groan that rumbles in his throat.

“No one ever made you feel this way?” you taunt. His eyes flash, and before you know it, you’re both on the ground, his hips slotting in between your legs and his cock notching up at your entrance. He looks up at you, pupils blown, chest heaving.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’ll fucking murder you –"

He cuts you off with one quick rock of his hips. You burn at the stretch. He’s big, and it’s been a while, but he’s already moving before you have time to process that little blip of pain before the pleasure is overwhelming you. You squeal when he lifts your hips up, but it’s just to slip a pillow under you before he’s manhandling your hips and fucking into you like a man possessed.

His breath is hot against your ear, whispering a litany of confessions while he drags his cock in and out. It’s so purposeful, you feel every stroke of him in your fucking skull. His pubic bone grinds against your clit with every thrust, and before you know it, you’re chanting praises, begging him to let you come.

He knows the neighbors will complain, that the safe house is absolutely busted, but he can’t fucking care, because your perfect little cunt is squeezing him like a vice, and your eyes are so blissful as you come that he feels, finally, at peace.

“That’s it, princess,” he says as your orgasm shatters through you. “Make a fucking mess, just for me, god yes –"

He comes so hard that his vision whites out. All he can feel and hear and see and think is you.

He collapses on top of you, nosing at the baby hairs damp with sweat along your neck. He smiles. Maybe later he’ll take you to a bed and tell you his real name.

[sugarwarachan]

touchstarved!hawks who can’t remember the last time anyone touched him because they wanted to, not because they could get something out of him

touchstarved!hawks who melts into your touch the first time you hold him, his whole body going slack as he finally lets himself relax

touchstarved!hawks who preens when you card your hands through his hair, scraping your nails down his neck and in between his shoulder blades. “touch ‘em, baby, please,” he hears himself beg, his wings rustling and fluffing out behind him

touchstarved!hawks who bites back a moan the minute your fingers soothe over his feathers. you’re so gentle, so warm, so perfect. he ruts into your hip before lifting you up and fitting you snugly in his lap, dick pressed against the sopping wet seam of your panties

touchstarved!hawks who can talk circles around anyone reduced to a groaning mess, hardly able to stutter out more than a pititful “feels so fucking good, don’t - ngh - don’t ya dare stop touchin’ me”

touchstarved!hawks who comes against the soft skin of your tummy the minute your nails scratch the base of his wings -

[sugarwarachan]

just me being horny about dabi before noon - mdni

dabi absolutely has a predator/prey kink, and it’s activated when you’re trying to watch tv of all things. he’s rewatching old hero footage again, and you’re begging him to watch something else, anything else, and he’s all, fine brat come and get the remote then, so you put one hand on his leg and lean over, making sure to brush the side of your tit against his shirt, and pluck the remote right out of his hand -

and the bastard fucking smiles, something hungry and filthy that makes your pussy clench.

“you wanna play that game, huh?”

you're scrambling up and throwing the blanket in his face to try and get a headstart. "“guess you’ll just have to catch me first!"

you hear his chuckle as you’re sprinting down the hall. “oh angel, you’re gonna have to run a lot faster than that if you wanna get away from me”

he catches up to you as soon as you round the corner to your bedroom door, forearm looping around your waist and tugging you flush against his chest. you struggle and kick, laughing at the confusing mixture of emotions sweeping through your body. terror and joy and arousal course through you so fast it’s leaving you out of breath.

and dabi?? man is actively trying not to fuck you against the door. he's got you caged in his arms and his dick jumps when you make that little gasp, you can fucking bet that sound's gonna play on a loop every time he fucks his fist now. he can picture how blown out your pupils are, your pretty round cheeks flushed red -

“you like me chasin’ you, dontcha?” he whispers into your ear, like he's not grinding his erection against your ass

a/n: AWOOOGAAAA I might have to make this a one-shot 🤌

[sugarwarachan]

andy ✿ 30s ✿ she/her

infj, writer, mainly bnha and haikyuu (for now) but this is a multi-fandom circus yall , depressed af, oxford comma slut, still has a thing for loki laufeyson, purveyor of smut and keeper of strange literary facts. not free of spoilers. .

recents -

𓇢𓆸 i overheard you - s. todoroki, virigin!shoto, nfsw

𓇢𓆸 better than most to say the least - dabi, soulmate!au, nfsw

𓇢𓆸 shigaraki tomura drabble

currently writing -

watching you - s. aizawa (wip)

teaching you a lesson - n. kento (wip)

pr stunt - hawks (wip)

sex pollen troubles- roommate!katsuki (wip)

about/rules ❤︎ masterlist (wip!) ❤︎ find me on ao3 ❤︎

writing tag: #sugarwarachanwrites

♡ favorites: dabi, takami keigo, todoroki shouto, shigaraki tomura, aizawa shota, bakogou katsuki, hitoshi shinsou, tendou satori, tsukishima kei, gojo satoru, nanami kento